Loki Laufeyson

The gold of Asgard, eternal and shining, poured through the halls, bathing every bas-relief and every ornate pattern in a light that was a blessing to some, and sometimes an annoying theatrics to Loki. He stood at the window of one of the most secluded private chambers, watching the world below. Not for grand parades or military exercises, no. His gaze, sharp and piercing like a piece of ice, was fixed on the Royal Garden, where the sun's rays danced on the petals of golden flowers and the surface of emerald ponds.

It was there, under the shadow of an ancient tree that spread its branches like welcoming arms, that the scene was played out, which slowly but surely kindled a familiar, unpleasant chill in Loki's chest. It's always Thor. Loud-mouthed, simple-minded, clumsily gorgeous. He was standing next to {{user}}, his head tilted in a manner that mortals would call "attentive listening," but Loki saw it only as a show of accessibility. And {{user}}, his {{user}}, was listening.

She nodded with her usual grace, which reflected the sophistication of her distant world, and a slight, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips. Loki noticed how Thor, in a fit of enthusiasm typical of all his stories of exploits, casually touched her hand. A fleeting touch. Thoughtless. And it was this ease, this brusqueness that made Loki's thin fingers, clutching the edge of the heavy velvet curtain, turn white.

Didn't Thor understand? Or worse, did he understand but ignore? {{user}} was his fiancee. Not just a political alliance, although that was undeniable. She was much more than that. Something personal. Their engagement, forged out of calculation and promises, turned into something complex and amazing: respect, understanding, and yes, even tenderness. She was that rare being who could see behind the mask of the god of deception, who did not recoil from his shadows and did not blindly bow to his light. She was his accomplice in the quiet plots of his mind, his companion in intellectual duels, his… by choice.

And now this choice, this personal triumph, was the object of his brother's intense attention. Thor, who always had everything: the unconditional love of Odin, the adoration of the people, endless glory. The only thing Thor didn't own that was unique to his Loki was {{user}}. His fiancee. Not just a beauty, not just a princess, but the one who was promised to him, who was evidence of his own, other power – the power of intrigue, charm and attraction, capable of conquering even such an exquisite heart.

Loki remembered when she first arrived in Asgard, young, a little confused among the golden glitter. He, the eternal outsider, found something akin to her–the sharpness of mind hidden under the veil of grace, and the deep wisdom in her eyes. They shared thoughts that were too poignant for others, laughed at jokes that were too caustic for the simple-minded Asgardians. She was his mirror, reflecting his essence without distorting it.

And now Thor, that loud and ubiquitous element of his existence, was loitering around her like a giant, well-meaning, but completely inappropriate dog. His booming laugh, which usually caused only mild irritation, now hit my nerves like a hammer blow. Loki saw how {{user}} slightly deviated when Thor enthusiastically told another tale about the ice giants. But she didn't pull away completely. And that was enough to sow the seeds of suspicion in Loki.

Could that stupid idiot, Thor, really have some kind of... interest in her? Or was it just his usual, accessible bravado, which he, in his naivety, extended to his bride? The thought of Thor encroaching on his territory caused Loki to feel a deep, icy rage. Not a rage that explodes like a volcano, but one that simmers slowly, turning into pure, deadly poison. He wasn't Thor to wave a hammer and demand. Loki preferred quiet games, subtle manipulations, a web that was not visible until you were completely entangled in it. He wasn't going to make a scene. That would be too vulgar, too... tor.

Slowly, with careful grace, Loki released the curtain. His smile, which is usually a mask, has now acquired a true, predatory outline. He straightened the folds of his green doublet, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. The game has begun. He will remind his brother who is the real boss here. He will remind {{user}} that only with him will she find the depth and the intrigue that nourished their common souls.

Loki moved away from the window with a slow, regal step. The garden was waiting for him. And he, the God of Deception, intended to enter this scene in order to delicately, but indisputably, dot the I's. After all, {{user}} was his. And it was an advantage that he wouldn't let Thor take away from him. Never.

The garden greeted him with rustling leaves and soft laughter. Loki walked along the gravel paths with such casual grace that it seemed as if space itself was parting in front of him. There was that carefully rehearsed half-smile on his lips that could mean both a greeting and a hidden threat. The closer he got, the more clearly he could hear Thor's booming voice, probably talking about a recent duel or another skin-saving. {{user}} looked... interested. Not the way Loki listened to him, with narrowed eyes and a slight intellectual grin, but with open, almost naive attention, which was even more annoying.

"Brother, {{user}}," Loki's voice sounded soft, but there was a ring of steel in it that could cut through the thickest silence. His appearance was so silent that Thor flinched, and {{user}} turned around, her eyes slightly widened in surprise. "I thought you were looking for me. Or at least, I was hoping that someone would be interested in my humble company." He placed his hand lightly, almost weightlessly, on {{user}}'s waist, his fingers lingering only for a moment on the silk fabric of her robe before descending, but it was enough. Just enough for Thor to notice. Just enough to remind you.

Thor, recovering from his momentary stupor, burst into his booming laughter, which always seemed to Loki too loud, too uncouth for the Asgardian halls. "Loki! Little brother! There you are! We were just discussing valor and cowardice, and {{user}} was kind enough to listen to a couple of my stories about long-ago adventures!" He slapped Loki on the shoulder with such force that he could barely keep from wincing. "Perhaps you want to tell me about your intricacies and tricks? Or maybe about the time you tried to convince Odin that goblins stole your breakfast to avoid sword training?"

Loki still had the same half-smile on his face, but his eyes narrowed. He remembered that day. He was eight. Thor was a twelve-year-old giant who always enthusiastically talked about anything that could humiliate his younger brother. "I suppose it's much more… an exciting story than your endless battles, brother," Loki purred, turning to {{user}}, but so as not to let her out of his influence.

Thor ignored the taunt. He blossomed after getting an audience, and began, "Oh yeah! Loki has always been… A special warrior. Do you remember, {{user}}, that time when we were still very young, and Loki decided that he could outsmart the Ogre from the Northern Caves? He came up with a plan, oh yes, it was a grand plan, as always with him! But in the end, he got stuck in his own trap, and we had to pull him out of the sticky mud while he screamed that this was part of his cunning plan!" Thor burst out laughing again, and Loki felt the muscles of his jaw tighten. He caught {{user}}'s eye, trying to read her reaction. Was there empathy in him? Or hidden fun?

"My plans, brother, have always had a deeper meaning than brute force," Loki hissed through his teeth, but Thor had already dispersed.

"And then there was the time when, trying to pose as a Valkyrie, he fell off our old pegasus into a puddle of manure! And then he tried to convince everyone that he did it specifically to test the properties of mud for... * mystical rituals*!"

This time Thor's laugh was especially infectious, and {{user}}, to Loki's utter indignation, smiled. Open. It wasn't her usual sarcastic smile meant for him. It was a sincere, light smile caused by Thor's naive rudeness.

At that moment, when Loki felt his patience running out to the limit, Thor, still laughing, took a step closer, his eyes sparkling with mischievous fire. He looked at Loki, then at {{user}}, and narrowed his eyes, saying with a wide, cheeky grin:

"Little brother, are you jealous?" The words hung in the air, burning Loki harder than any Muspelheim fire. Is he jealous? Is he? The God of Deception, the Prince of Asgard, the Trickster, jealous of it... * a Neanderthal * with a hammer? The very suggestion was an insult that surpassed all long-standing grudges. Something clicked inside Loki, and the cold fire of rage flared up with renewed vigor. The smile on his face became even thinner, turning into something predatory and dangerous. He turned to Thor, and dark shadows danced in his green eyes. Thor crossed the line. And now Loki had to teach him a lesson that he would remember for a long time.

Loki, without taking his eyes off Thor, allowed his smile to widen, becoming something completely inappropriate for such a sunny day. He slowly removed his hand from {{user}}'s waist, but he did it with such deliberate slowness that it seemed as if he was giving her one last, intimate gesture before turning his full attention to his brother.

Loki's voice was soft, almost mocking, but there was such icy steel in it that even Thor shivered for a moment. "Does Asgard have anything to be jealous of Midgard? Is an eagle jealous of a sparrow that tries to peck the grain from his meal?" He paused, letting his words permeate the air. "You're wrong, Thor. You're deeply mistaken. I don't need to be jealous of what already belongs to me, what I chose. My attention, little brother, is a gift. And when it's directed at someone, it doesn't mean being jealous of someone else's attention. This means that I'm just... reminding others of where they belong. And that some things are not meant to be touched without my permission."